


I Could Take You

by thatoneperson0000



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alpha Greece, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Historical Hetalia, M/M, Memory Loss, Nation Headcanons, Omega Turkey, Reborn - Freeform, Slow Burn, Turkey being less of an asshole, smut later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoneperson0000/pseuds/thatoneperson0000
Summary: Turkey was not the Ottoman Empire, despite what every other nation thinks. He's also not the alpha that the Ottoman Empire once was, but it's not as if anybody knows, right?





	1. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon is that the Ottoman Empire was named Selim and Turkey was named Sadiq. 
> 
> Nations can hear their citizen’s thoughts, and can nation-hop (only within their own boundaries). Turkey’s situation is exactly like Germany’s as HRE (another headcanon), except he’s alone. Nations also have their own language which humans can’t understand, but they don’t know every human language (unless their citizens know it).  
> ALSO IMPORTANT: Since they’re not humans, nations can actually choose their dynamic/gender after each death they experience. BUT….guess who can’t? rip
> 
> INSPIRED BY "A Tear and a Smile" by newamsterdam  
> I had this idea before I read her/his work, but once I read it then I was actually pumped up to write my own version. :) This is my first fanfic, so I'm kind of bad right now

There was nothing that could’ve prepared him for suddenly waking up, as if he’d just phased into existence. 

He didn’t sleepily blink his eyes open, didn’t feel any pain or memory or any other sensation other than the hot cement of the street beneath his feet and the sun beating on his face. He knew his name was the Turkish Republic, but there was...nothing else. There was a pull in his chest that guided him to his citizens, to their thoughts and emotions, but none to his own. 

_Where am I?_ He thought, looking around. People were walking all around him, some were talking to each other, while others were loitering around near the stalls on the side. 

Turkey walked over to a random coffee shop, fishing out a wad of bills, before getting hit with a sense of confusion. 

_This isn’t mine...but it is?_

He calmed down, listening to his citizens’ thoughts from the corner of the dingy coffee shop. Turkey looked with his peripherals at the newspaper in one of his citizen’s hands, which said that it was October 29, 1923. There was a sudden tugging in his heart, and he pulled upon that thread instinctively, surroundings disappearing to reveal a tanned man in a suit and gelled hair in a chair, sitting in front of a table signing documents. 

Turkey knew his name, somehow, and he knew who this man was. 

He smiled, opening his mouth to say, “Hello Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, I am the Republic of Turkey.” 

* * *

It took a while to get the new leader of the nation on top of this whole…anthropomorphic embodiments of countries thing. Although Turkey couldn’t recall any memories even though he appeared as an adult, he could remember everything about being a nation, including the nation-hops, the super strength, and the fact that he was one. 

Kemal Atatürk sighed, putting two fingers on his forehead. 

“So...what do you do?” He asked, tapping his fingers against the documents upon his table. 

Turkey noted the thousands of ideas flitting around his head about his new nation and the various reforms the leader wanted to input. 

“I’m not going to interrupt whatever you want to do,” Turkey explained. “To be honest, I was just born today, when you signed that treaty, so I’m not sure what the other nations do.” 

“Another question. Do you think like your citizens, or do you formulate your own opinions?” Kemal Atatürk asked, picking up his pen again. 

“Every citizen’s thoughts and opinions are mine,” Turkey admitted. “Majority, mainly, but basically everyone’s. Why?” 

“Great,” Kemal Atatürk replied, sliding a document towards him. “Now, I need a bit of advice on this one.” 

* * *

_“SELIM!” A voice rang out, and The Ottoman Empire turned to lock eyes with a gaze full of green fire and hard ash. Greece was looking as stony as ever, hands around a gun and light brown hair messed up with the grime and dirt from fighting a lost battle._

_“Heracles,” Ottoman Empire said with a monotone voice, ducking inside a trench for cover against the raining bullets._

_Greece was looking at him from across the battlefield, an indiscernible emotion burning in his irises. Something like, I thought you were dying? Why are you out fighting?_ _As if right on time, the Ottoman Empire coughed into his sleeve, blood speckles dusting it with crimson dye. He winced, breathing heavily before cocking his gun again to shoot at the Greek soldiers._

_“_ _υποχωρώ! (Fall back)” A voice yelled out, before the Greek soldiers began moving back._ _Ottoman Empire noticed something in the rock on the other side; making sure he was being discreet, he teleported to it and saw Greece’s body slumped against it, gun falling to the ground._

_“You idiot,” Ottoman Empire whispered, moving Greece’s head to reveal a bloody hole on the side that was quickly healing and repairing itself. Soon, Greece’s color recovered itself, but he was still seemingly unconscious._

_Ottoman Empire laughed lightly suddenly, brushing away Greece’s hair to the side of his dirty face. “You haven’t changed at all, cheeky brat. Can’t wait til’ you’re done with me, huh?”_

_He looked at Greece, getting up and looking at him one last time before saying, “I’ll meet you at our last battle. I’m going to die soon, anyway, and it’s about time.” He nation hopped back to his ranks._

_There was an eerie silence for a few seconds, before Greece opened both eyes, frowning._

* * *

Turkey woke up suddenly, hands grasping his chest, goosebumps appearing all over his skin. He shivered, breathing hard but not making a sound as he remembered his dream. 

_What was that?_

He’d heard stories about the Ottoman Empire, but had never met him, seeing as he was established after the Ottoman Empire was abolished. In the dream, however, he felt as if he was the Ottoman Empire, even though he was Turkey. He frowned, staring out the window. He’d never met this Greece guy, but there was going to be a World Meeting next week, so he would meet most of the nations at that time and see this guy for himself. 

There was a feeling in his chest though, that he wasn’t as simple as just the Republic of Turkey, but there was no way to know the exact name of it yet. 

* * *

Turkey coughed into his hand, readjusting his military uniform. There was a white mask on the top half of his face, which made him feel more comfortable, while his hood was pulled over his head. 

There was a sort of nervousness about meeting other immortal embodiments, but also a feeling of deja vu. The building was huge, as expected of Russia, but it was also really fucking cold in the country. 

He opened the door, letting confidence ooze into his whole being, and walked inside. 

….And he was met with a scene of absolute anarchy. Two blonde nations--France and England, his subconsciousness helpfully supplied him with--were full on dueling near their chairs, while a giant white-haired nation laughed in the face of another blonde-haired man eating a burger. The rest of the nations were either milling about, sleeping on the table, or talking to each other in the seats designated for them. 

_There’s no smells,_ Turkey noted, feeling the scent blockers on his scent gland. _Everyone had the same idea._

There was no distinct smell of alpha, omega, or beta in the room, as everyone seemed to have suppressed their smell. It wasn’t unusual to see this scene, as every worker in a workplace was required to block their smell to prevent discrimination or problems based on sub-genders. 

“Oh man, he’s fucking here again,” Turkey heard a voice complain loudly. There was a light brown haired man standing next to a slightly taller dark-brown haired guy. 

_Spain and South Italy,_ Turkey’s mind instantly spit at him, but Turkey frowned in his head. He’d never met these people, though? What was with his mind today?

South Italy looked slightly creeped out, or scared, Turkey couldn’t tell. The nation was looking straight at Turkey, but quickly turned around once he was caught staring. Turkey shrugged, turning around before Spain came in front of him, saying, “hey Selim! Didn’t expect to see you here!” in nation-speak. 

“Selim?” Turkey asked, cocking one eyebrow up. “I’m the Republic of Turkey, not the Ottoman Empire.” 

“OH!” Spain exclaimed, eyes widening. “You’re Turkey, the new nation! Sorry, you look very similar to Selim.”

“Thank god,” South Italy--or Romano, said, nodding. “He was one scary old bastardo.” 

Turkey felt himself rolling his eyes behind his mask for some reason.

“As I’ve heard. How do I look like him?”

“The mask is one thing,” Spain pointed out, poking his white mask, although Turkey flinched away. “Your clothes aren’t as flashy, but he had the same hair and curl. Except you got rid of your little slight-stubble thing, whatever that was.” 

“Your personality is different though,” Romano added on. “He was fucking terrifying and seemed like the type of person who wouldn’t ever fall, but, well...he did. You’re confidant as well, although... well whatever, when is the stupid meeting starting anyway.” 

“Thanks,” Turkey said dryly. “Nice talking to you all, but I’m going to go meet and greet other nations right now.” 

He’d passed by and chatted with a few other nations like Iceland, and Romania (who seemed to dislike him at first before Turkey actually introduced himself), and he’d met a nation named Egypt whom he’d seemed to hit off with. Sort of. 

Egypt didn’t exactly seem to hate his guts when he’d first met him, so maybe that was the indication. 

Then, Turkey had wandered around the seats (basically the World Meeting was hosted within some large room with many rows of seats) until he saw his plaque written with the words “Republic of Turkey” on them. There was another guy who was sleeping right next to him wearing a plain white T-shirt and khaki jeans--distinctly, he could remember a flash of emerald eyes and smoking battlefields and discolored skies, and he knew it was the nation from his dream. 

Greece. 

Well, it was also written on the plaque in front of him, but Turkey also knew instinctively despite that small detail. 

“What’s UP UH…” Turkey greeted, pretending to peek at Greece’s plaque. “GREECE. Looks like we’re seat-mates today.” 

Greece yawned, peeking one eye open to look at him, and suddenly, Turkey was hit with a sense of deja vu. 

“Seat-mates,” Greece replied in a deadpan voice. There was a spark of something--maybe surprise--that flickered in his eye before it flitted away, leaving behind bottomless emerald. 

“Well--yeah, whatever we’re called,” Turkey grunted, irritation sparking up out of nowhere and seeping into his voice a little. “I’m the Republic of Turkey, or Sadiq if you prefer human names.” He held out his hand, which Greece took and shook. 

Maybe Turkey looked a bit at Greece’s flexing biceps and checked him out a bit, but that detail was very unimportant. Besides, how’d he get so buff? He seemed like the type of guy who’d spend all day sleeping. He flexed his own arm a bit. Yep, still got it. 

There was a small _meow_ that came from Greece’s lap, and Turkey glanced over before asking, “you brought a cat in here??” 

“Mm,” Greece replied, nodding in agreement. “His name’s Sparta.” 

Turkey barked a laugh at that, saying, “you name your pets after your cities? Cute, kid.” He suddenly snapped his mouth shut, tilting his head a bit in confusion. Where’d that ‘kid’ come from? 

“I’m older than you by a couple hundred _at least,_ ” Greece said, smirking a bit, although his eyes seemed to pierce through Turkey. “Compared to me, you’re a newborn child.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Turkey waved away the insult, before leaning back unto his seat. “But anyways, I thought this meeting was going to be more...serious. Everyone’s just fucking around, really.” 

“It’s always like this,” Greece replied as his cat jumped unto the table. “We just do this ‘meeting’ for our leaders’ sake, but really, it’s just a giant meetup.” 

“Nice,” Turkey snorted, before the cat jumped onto his lap. “...” 

“Sparta, come back,” Greece said, but he hid a laugh at Turkey’s surprised expression. The cat was sort of purring, but there was a flash of panic for one second in Turkey when the cat had first jumped him. He’d never gotten scratched by a cat, but he had a sort of instinctive feeling that he would be, for whatever reason. 

“You know, he usually doesn’t like strangers,” Greece added, leaning his head unto his hand. “Especially not alphas.” 

“How do you know I am one?” Turkey retorted. 

“With your ego, I’m sure you would’ve wanted to be one.” 

“Trust me, if I cou-” Turkey started, before revising, “-uh if I was any dynamic, I would obviously be a beta. Haha, I dunno what’s the big deal with all this alpha stuff…” He definitely sounded nervous for a second. 

“EVERYBODY QUIET DOWN!” Germany’s voice, amplified by microphones, echoed all over the room. “It’s time to begin the meeting, so take a seat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about the Ottoman Empire/Turkey, as I don’t live there, but I love Turkey as a character in Hetalia so here I am. Most of the fics that I see about Greece/Turkey, is about him basically raping Greece so I want to put my own contribution to this fandom lol. 
> 
> ALSO although Turkey seems OOC right now, I'll try and make him seem more like the canon one later. 
> 
> Here’s some research I tried doing, so if I get some stuff wrong I’m sorry rip: 
> 
> 1.) With the currency problem Turkey was having in the beginning, it’s because the Ottoman Empire’s currency was still being used until like 1930s or  
> something. Seeing as he’s the Republic of Turkey and not the Ottoman Empire, he had some *WHOAH* feelings about the whole thing. So, he’ll get  
> his own currency, but he had some like deja vu moments with that thing.  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ottoman_lira  
> 2.)October 29, 1923 was when the Turkish Republic was announced, while November 1, 1922 was when the Ottoman Empire (sultanate?) was abolished  
> https://nzhistory.govt.nz/war/ottoman-empire/birth-of-turkey  
> 3.) So Ottoman Empire was kinda dying by the time the Turkish nationalists and Greeks were fighting intensely, but Turkey wasn’t created when the  
> Turkish War for Independence was going on because he wasn’t a nation yet (let’s just ignore America’s situation as a colony lmao), and Sadiq knew he  
> was going die as the Ottoman Empire (there was a lot of things wrong with it, like the inflation and after WWI and occupations). He  
> joined the Turkish forces rather than the actual Ottoman Empire (which pretty much wasn't anything really) at that time, which caused him to become Turkey instead (hence the flashback)  
> 4.) Apparently Kemal Atatürk basically reformed Turkey (he gave women rights and basically transformed it) and was given some peace prize as well  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mustafa_Kemal_Atat%C3%BCrk#cite_note-1


	2. Redo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flashbacks, Turkey and Greece get into old routines, same old, same old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I'm terrible at updating. Been working on another fic as well, and been drawing some fanart recently.
> 
> Edit: I have two notes at the bottom of the chapter apparently, so ignore the second one (I have no idea how to get rid of it so :()

Every nation did as he said, quieting down. 

“So we have a new nation here, welcome Republic of Turkey,” Germany said, and the nations started looking around. 

_Ah, I should stand up,_ Turkey thought, which he did, and then sat back down. He felt his skin prickle with the dislike in some of the nations’ gazes. _I would forgo the mask next time, as it stood out, but…_

Well, the mask was his only sense of comfort. 

The other nations gave a presentation talking about the various problems in the world, before lunch break quickly rolled around.

Turkey stood up quickly, looking around before Egypt came up to him and invited him to a Meditterannean-nations-only lunch group. He followed them out into the restaurant they chose, and sat down on the plush seats. 

“Hey Turkey!” A brown-haired nation called out. He had a weird curl on the side of his head, like him, except it was longer. 

“What’s up uh-” 

“North Italy.”

“-North Italy,” Turkey repeated. 

_“-Stop stop!” A teenage nation shouted, amber eyes filled with a burning fire. Dirt was smeared across his clothes and face, his clothes tattered with holes as he clutched a sword in his hand._

_“Try to,” Selim taunted, brandishing his pala and pointing it at Italy._

_The nation’s expression tightened before he made up his mind. He took a step forward, and rushed at Selim, bringing his hand up to throw a rock at his face before swinging his sword forward._

_Selim moved his face away go dodge the fast moving rock, before blocking Italy’s swing and took out another sword to stab at him. Italy moved, centuries of reflexives honed to see even the smallest of movement._

_Selim, however, saw an opening and twisted his sword, disarming Italy before stabbing him in the chest just as quickly._

_Italy coughed, grabbing the sword with both hands and pulling it out of his chest._

_“You bastard,” he said, before collapsing. Selim sighed, sheathing in one of his swords before moving Italy’s body out of the rubble of Otranto with his foot._

_“Nice try kid,” Selim said as he watched the nation’s buildings catch fire and burst into rubble._

Turkey blinked, before he took Italy’s hand that had been hovering in the air for a few seconds, shaking it. 

“Sorry, got stuff on my mind,” he said lightheartedly, thinking about the memory. It didn’t feel like something he’d just make up, and he was certain that it was a memory, rather than some...fluke. 

“It’s fine, I’ve always got stuff on _my_ mind!” Italy chirped, eyes turning into half crescents. “Like pasta! Pasta is so delicious!” 

_He hasn’t changed at all._

“Agreed,” Turkey laughed, sitting next to Greece. “Well, uhh...since I’m new to this whole nation thing, is there any tips you can give me?” 

“I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help then,” Italy laughed. “You’re usually supposed to find out yourself, but I’m going to say this: don’t expect your alliances to stay, and whatever personal feelings you have about another nation is going to have to be put aside for your own duties as one.”

“Sounds fantastic,” Turkey said sarcastically. “I’m sure we’re still allowed to have friends, no?”

“Of course!” Italy exclaimed. “Your nation always comes first, but it’s boring if you’re always alone. Live life, have fun, love, but also work hard. And make pasta.”

“Thanks for that, nice meeting you,” Turkey said, glancing up. “Oh! There’s the waiter.”

* * *

“Greece wake up,” Turkey said, nudging Greece’s head with his hand. The cat on Greece’s shoulders patted at his hands, and he shooed its paw away gently. He stayed still, still in seemingly deep sleep, and Turkey sighed.

They’d already tried waking him when the food came, but he didn’t wake up. Maybe he was a deep sleeper, or maybe he was just tired, but Turkey ordered food for him anyway. 

“Alright then, you asked for it,” Turkey muttered darkly, before motioning for Egypt to come over and help him heave Greece unto his back. 

Moments later, Greece was on Turkey’s back as he walked back to the meeting room, with Egypt laughing behind them. Turkey felt utterly ridiculous. 

When Turkey reached Greece’s chair, he dumped said person down unto it, and turned around to rearrange his notes. 

“You know, I was awake that entire time,” Greece said, and Turkey could _hear_ the smirk in his voice. 

“I KNEW NOBODY COULD SLEEP THAT FUCKING LONG!” Turkey shouted, whipping around in annoyance. “WHY THE--”

“And that’s why,” Greece interrupted. “I didn’t think you’d actually care enough to do it.”

Turkey huffed out, “I’m not such an asshole to leave you there, ya know…..bitch. You were heavy.” He flipped Greece off. 

Greece barked out a laugh at that. 

* * *

**1941 - Athens**

Turkey rushed out into Athens, looking around for familiar green eyes and chestnut brown hair. The day was a foreboding grey, with wind whistling through the alleys and windows of the unkept buildings. The sounds of seagulls flying above broke the silence of the still air, where hundreds of people watched as a Turkish ship, the _SS Kurtulus_ , docked. 

There he was, a grim expression on his frozen face. He seemed like a beacon of light in the gloomy war, with the same defiance from before ( _before Sadiq was Turkey, there was that same figure that stood against him, screaming for independence_ ). 

“Sadiq?” Greece asked, as Turkey came down from the ship and smiled dimly. 

“Heard news about the occupation and the famine,” Turkey said, pointing at his ship. “So I came with aid.”

There was a spark of surprise in his eyes, and he slowly cracked a smile. A wave of Greece’s natural cinnamon and pepper scent washed over him, and brought him back into the times when it was just him and young Heracles in a candle-lit kitchen together, looking at spices and fragrances and sturdy hands making delicacies. 

“I’m surprised you would be the first to help,” Greece pointed out. 

“Yeah, well, buddy nations, allies, all that jazz, eh?” Turkey said, shrugging. “You...look terrible right now. You being a selfless bastard as always?” 

“I don’t need the food,” Greece replied, looking over at the looming city nearby. Turkey looked over at the city with him in comfortable silence, at the tiny life forms and cars whirring and empty streets. 

“Hopefully, this war ends soon,” Turkey said softly. 

Greece hummed in acknowledgement. 

* * *

_“What the hell is this,” The Ottoman Empire, also known as Selim only to a few, said as he tightly grasped the Treaty of Sévres._

_Italy, France, Britain, and Japan stood by him, among other countries that consisted of the Allied Powers during World War I. They were in the exhibition room of a porcelain factory (who knows why), surrounding a table, negotiating the terms of the treaties._

_“Isn’t this basically partitioning my nation?” The Ottoman Empire whispered, balling his fists. He’d already given up so much in the Armistice of Mudros... And now..._

_“You lost to us. You helped set off a war that dragged countries all around the world into this,” Britain pointed out. “Your nation was partly responsible for this, so it needs to live up to its defeat. Besides, isn’t your empire dying anyway?”_

_Just as Britain said this, The Ottoman Empire threw his hand up suddenly to cover his mouth, and released a violent cough. He grimaced._

_“Right, just let your representatives sign it. We’ve negotiated this treaty for a long time already,” France said, pushing the paper forward._

_The Ottoman Empire didn’t reply to their arguments. He knew he had lost; these were just the consequences. He was lucky he hadn’t been dissolved, yet._

_But it didn’t mean that he agreed with them._

_The scratching of pen against paper echoed in his ear._

* * *

_“Greece,” Selim said, stepping back to allow the other nation to come in. “I thought either France, Britain, or Italy would not let you in.”_

_“The only thing that matters is that I am here,” Greece--Heracles--replied curtly. He glanced at Selim, who had his mask on, as always. He’d never seen the man with his mask off, even as a child nation under the Ottoman Empire._

_“Don’t tell me you came here just to eat pirzola again,” Selim said, managing to produce a halfway decent looking smirk without looking like he’d collapse at that very moment. Because of the Turkish National Movement had been going on lately, he’d gradually been getting weaker and weaker--but he knew it was his time to go already. It’s about time a new Turkish nation rose up instead of an already collapsing, old nation._

_“I’m just here to visit you,” Heracles replied as he dragged Selim to his favorite writing table and chair. “I heard news about..that movement from my country.”_

_“I’m doing just fine brat,” Selim said sarcastically, sitting down in the chair. “Don’t worry about me just yet--I’m too obstinate to be able to die so easily. Hold on--I need to do something quickly, I’ll come back soon.”_

_He practically sprinted out of his large house and coughed violently into the dirt. Dark blood speckled the ground like a paint splatter, seeping into nearby plants._

_Shit, it’s getting so much worse, Selim thought as he walked back into the house, fixing up his clothes._

_Greece turned out, was just as stubborn and bratty as the child nation who used to be under him, and denied any statement that he was concerned about Selim._

_They had a sort-of reunion (with a lot of fighting--although it did not provoke a fight out of Selim, nor was it heated), and…_

_It was the first time in a long time that Selim could actually enjoy being in another’s presence._

_After Greece left, just a few days later on November 1st, 1922, Sadiq found himself disappearing into particles of light._

_I guess this really is the end, he thought, taking off his mask, which hit the floor with a thump._

_He sighed as his fingers began to fade away into iridescent particles of life, just like the ancient empires before him did, and looked at his window into the clear sky._

_Finally._

* * *

**1999 - Izmit**

He’d woken up again, but by now, he was used to the dreams. He didn’t feel that familiar chill run down his back, nor that ache of something seemingly missing in his heart, but his heart was pattering quickly in his chest. He sat there for a moment, before getting up to get ready for the day. 

As he was walking down the streets of Istanbul, he felt two powerful presences relax into existence, before he nation-hopped to where they were. In the nearby city of Izmit, he saw a flash of brown and black, and suddenly turned his head (which hurt for a moment, as he twisted it too fast). 

“Gre-Heracles and Kiku?” Turkey called out, confused. What were they doing in his country? 

“Hello Sadiq-san,” Japan greeted, bowing a little in acknowledgement. “Heracles is showing me around here. It’s very beautiful.” 

“We’ve got some time, so we came by,” Greece added on. “He wanted to come visit.” 

“Well, if you’re down for it, you’ve got _the_ nation right here!” Turkey said, pointing his thumb at himself. “I’ve got some free time. Also, you don’t have to be formal with me Japan.”

“Oh, I don’t want to int--” Japan started to say, before Greece interrupted with, “he can show us around, Kiku. What else would he be doing, other than comparing the superior quality of my coffee to his?”

“I take offense to that!” Turkey protested. “Besides, mine is so much better and authentic, you whiny brat!” 

“You’re the brat here! I’ve been alive since 146 BC,” Greece replied, crossing his arms as he looked at Turkey. 

Turkey gasped in an exaggerated manner, putting a hand on his heart. 

“You really are old! How are those bones holding up?” _Ha!_ For once, he wasn’t the butt of old man jokes. 

“I’m just fine--” Greece started to reply back, before Japan quickly said, “please stop fighting, let’s all get along and just look around. Sadiq-s--ahem, you can lead the way.”

“Alright, so there’s this really nice scenery spot right around…” Turkey started, before ripples of dull pain bloomed across his arms, legs, and chest. “Where….” 

“Do you feel that?” Greece asked suddenly, before his eyes widened a bit. 

“Earthquake!” Japan and Greece said at the same time, before an immense pain ripped its way through Turkey’s chest. He gasped, clutching his chest but stayed upright, beads of sweat starting to roll down his face.

“Get out while you guys can,” Turkey gritted out tersely, face scrunched up. “GO! We’re at the epicenter of it!”

“Sadiq--” Greece started to say, before the ground started shaking. Dust started filling up the air as bits of buildings began to sway and fall down around them, the state of the once beautiful city becoming increasingly damaged as the seconds passed. 

Turkey closed his eyes, breathing heavily while on one knee (he didn’t even notice when he’d stopped standing), before getting up as he felt, one by one, his citizens dying or being trapped underneath rock and dust. 

“I’ve got to--” Turkey said, eyes open wide as he got up and began running to the thoughts of his citizens around him, helpless and scared.

_\--Please help me, there’s gotta be somebody right--_

_\--Looks like I’m not making it out this one--_

_\--Fuck! My leg’s stuck!--_

It was a cacophony of noise and confusion in his mind, but even as the ground fell to pieces beneath him, he threw pieces of rubble to the side, not even caring if people saw--but he wasn't careless, he knew nobody was looking at him, when they were all running or trying to find their loved ones. 

“I’ve got you,” Turkey said as he found another citizen underneath a large piece of rubble, her tanned face dirty from the floating dust and scrapes on her elbows and knees. 

“Thank you, beyefendi,” she choked out, a faint wisp of her natural vanilla-sweet scent wafting over to Turkey. He nodded, moving to the side to let her get out, before getting up to go over to the next person who was trapped.

A shadow suddenly fell over him, and he looked up just in time to see a large segment of a building to come flying over at him. 

  
_Shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback with Italy to the Battle of Otranto, where the Ottoman Empire invaded Italy and destroyed its churches, buildings, etc. They were later forced out by Christian forces. 
> 
> In 1941, Greece was being occupied by Axis forces during WWII, and was in a state of severe famine. Turkey was the first nation to send aid to it during this time. 
> 
> Treaty of Sèvres after WWI basically partitioned the Ottoman Empire into territories under the Allied Powers, and ignited the Turkish Independence Movement. 
> 
> In 1999, the earthquake of Izmit had a magnitude of 7.6 and killed around 17,000 people. 
> 
> “Beyefendi” is basically sir in turkish for people you don’t know the names of. 
> 
> Sorry if I get anything wrong rip


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this was just sitting in my old drafts, so I decided to actually update. 
> 
> It's not the best written, and the scenes skip a bit, so I'm not the most proud.

“Whatever Sadiq said, we’re going to ignore,” Greece said, shifting his weight during the intense shaking. Japan nodded. 

“It doesn’t matter if we die or not,” Japan replied. “We are nations.” Greece and Japan began running in the direction Turkey went, dodging flying rocks and keeping their balance on the uneven ground. 

“Where is he?” Greece said out loud, scanning the buildings. He walked around the rubble, seeing the pieces of buildings piled on top of each other. Turkey had to be around here, he didn’t go that far from where they last saw him. Greece grabbed a large chunk of a building, looking around before throwing it out of the way. 

“I will help the civilians further down,” Japan said, nodding at Greece before rushing away. 

Greece kept moving chunks of rubble out of the way, before he saw a flash of green peek out from the earth. He dug his way in, before unearthing Turkey’s body.

_ He seems alive, _ Greece thought, checking Turkey’s pulse. Only Turkey’s head was injured; it seemed that the concrete chunk had been dropped against another wall, making it so that Turkey wasn’t completely squashed flat. 

Among the smell of copper and dust, however, there was something else…

A scent of flowers (but which one is unknown), of brewed coffee and freshly-baked bread. Something that comforted him, bringing him back to memories of  _ that  _ particular man. Underneath all that, was a barely-noticeable smell of sweet honey, distinctive of omegas. 

_ Ah _ , Greece thought, picking Turkey up and carrying him on his back.  _ So that’s why he always wears scent blockers _ .    
  
He was confused, though. Why would he need to do so? Nations weren’t like humans, who couldn’t change the sub-gender they were born with. 

It wasn’t in him to pry, however, so he kept the matter at that. It didn’t exactly matter what Turkey’s sub-gender was, since he acted the same anyhow. Greece still put his jacket around Turkey’s shoulders, since Turkey obviously didn’t want people to find out. 

_ Ah, now here’s a problem _ , Greece thought suddenly, turning around in a circle.  _ I have no idea where his house is.  _

He looked over his shoulder at Turkey’s unconscious face which seemed to be gaining color fast. The blood was still running down, but it seemed to be clotting and healing. 

_ He’ll probably wake up soon anyway.  _

* * *

Turkey opened his eyes suddenly, feeling something warm against his chest. 

_ Huh?  _ He thought, looking around. He was on Greece’s back, who was also currently looking back at him. 

“Finally,” Greece said bluntly. “You took forever.” 

All gratefulness he had towards Greece suddenly disappeared.

“Fuck you,” Turkey snarked. “I was literally hit on the head. Also, my house is destroyed, so give me a break already.” 

“Terrible news,” Greece said sarcastically. “But on a serious note, I’m sorry about Izmit...and your house.”

“Me losing things is fine, I’ll survive,” Turkey replied. “But the ones I’m worried about are my citizens.” 

“So you have a heart.”

“Yes, fuck you too.”

  
  
  


* * *

A hard knock on his door sounded out as Turkey was sitting on the couch, holding an ice pack to his throbbing head. He sat up, walking over to the door, although he never thought he would be visited by the person behind said door. 

“Greece?” Turkey asked, mouth parting open in surprise. 

“Do you have more Elvan Express?” Greece asked, letting himself in. Then, he looked at Turkey in surprise. “You’re wearing the necklace.” 

* * *

_ “Here’s something to congratulate your new nation, Republic of Turkey,” Greece said as the door opened to allow the nation in. _

_ “No need for that formal title, just call me Turkey,” Turkey said, smirking. He was a half head shorter than Greece, but that was to be expected since Turkey was a “new” nation at that time. Sort of. He was just created through the ashes of the Ottoman Empire, but wasn’t entirely built from the ground up, like America or China, so he appeared as a teenager.  _

_ “Sorry, didn’t know you’d come, so my place isn’t too neat right now,” Turkey continued, leading Greece into his house.  _

_ Greece paused near the living room to set down his gift he had bought for the new nation.  _

_ “Oh, is that a gift?” Turkey asked, eyebrows raised.  _

_ “Yeah,” Greece grunted. “You can open it after I leave. I was only planning on staying here for a few moments anyway.” _

_ “You can’t just fly into my country, say congratulations, and then leave again,” Turkey said, a bit miffed. “Stay for a bit.” _

_ For some reason, he felt as if he was familiar with Greece. A sense of deja vu, perhaps.  _

_ “Ah, it wasn’t that much trouble,” Greece said, draping himself over a couch. “I just teleported to the border between our countries, and got through easily because I had all the right documents. I said too many sentences in one sitting...I’m going to sleep now…”  _

_ This guy, Turkey thought, is interesting. In a weird way. _

_ He glanced at Greece for a few more seconds before leaving the room to make lunch.  _

_ At that time, he hadn’t known about all the trouble that would flood him later on. _

_ Stop thinking about past shit,  _ Turkey thought, internally scolding his mind. As he walked into the World Summit Meeting, the smell of alpha, beta, and omega faded and became sterilized. 

“Look England, this political disaster was not my fault this time, alright? Quit blaming me for your mistakes!” France complained in french as England grabbed a handful of his military uniform and held it close to his face.

“Bullshit, you kraut! You  _ know  _ that the delegation was forcibly canceled because of your stupid frog ass!” England retorted, red with anger. 

“Alright, alright dudes, settle down!” America yelled, patting both England and France on the back, both of whom stumbled a bit. America wasn’t the number one nation in the world for nothing, after all. 

“Yes, yes, settle down Britain,” France said, switching to the nation-language. 

England glared at him venomously one more time before stalking away, presumably to speak with other nations or his Flying Mint Bunny.

“America, how’re you doing today?” France asked as he shook hands with America. “How is Canada?”

“I’m doing great dude!” America enthusiastically replied, before turning around, helplessly looking around the room. “Where did Canada go? He was here just a moment ago…”

“I’m right here…” Turkey heard Canada whisper behind him. He jolted for a second, looking behind him. 

_ How the hell does he do that so easily,  _ Turkey thought, before moving to his seat. 

“Yo it’s Halloween today dudes!” America exclaimed after he had glanced at his watch. 

“You know what day it is, right?” Greece said as he walked up next to Turkey in the noisy meeting room. Turkey turned to him, pushing his mask up a little. 

“Halloween, like America said, right?” Turkey grunted back.  _ What’s his point? _

“Ottoman Empire’s collapse date,” Greece replied, cautiously looking at Turkey's reaction. 

He didn’t let anything show on his face, but Turkey felt surprised inside. Why would he need to mention that to the current him--Turkey? 

“Did you ever meet your predecessor?” Greece continued. 

_ Oh, he thinks that “Turkey” (the nation-human) was created before the creation of the Turkish Republic because of the rebellion groups right before the total collapse of the Ottoman Empire…  _ Turkey thought, realizing this immediately.

“No, I didn’t,” Turkey replied cautiously. “At that time, I was fighting with the rebellion, but the Ottoman Empire never really came out of his house--ya know, sick man of Europe and everything?” 

“Hmmm,” Greece hummed. “You know, you’re a lot like him.” 

“In what way, ya idiot,” Turkey retorted, nervously tapping his fingers against the table. 

“He was really stubborn, like you,” Greece began slowly, looking somewhere into the distance vacantly. “Rude, idiotic, barbaric, and loud. Extremely paranoid and guarded too, but that was the way older nations were. Didn’t know anything about parenting another nation either.”

_ Was there anything good about me in Greece’s eyes???  _ Turkey thought, disgruntled. 

“But his cooking was good, I guess. He never took off his mask, like you do,” Greece continued, before looking at Turkey. “Why did you decide to put on a mask?” 

Turkey was silent for a moment.

_ I put on a mask because it brought me security, and it terrified the enemy. Nobody could see my emotions if there was a mask over my face. _

“I...fuck, the compulsion came to me one day to buy a half-mask,” Turkey lied, sounding like he was confessing. “It felt really familiar to me, for some reason.” 

“So you have moments of deja-vu?” Greece inquired. 

“Yeah,” Turkey replied. “Nightmares, memories that aren’t mine.”  _ But they are,  _ a voice in the back of his head reminded him.  _ The only memories that aren’t yours is Osman’s.  _

Greece looked contemplating for a second, before replying with, “am I in it?”

Turkey froze. 

“No,” he said. “It’s nothing. I don’t get that much moments of deja-vu anyway, just fucking ignore what I said, stingy cat-lover.”

When Greece didn’t retort, Turkey glanced at the nation to make sure he was alright. Usually, Greece would yell back, they’d fight, or have a competition to see who’s better, and then they’d be interrupted by Germany or somebody else looking to stop them.

This time, Greece had a pained look on his face. 

“I-” Turkey started, before turning away. “I need to go use the bathroom really quickly.”

Then he quickly walked to the bathroom and slammed the doors. Again.

_ Shit _ , Turkey thought.  _ Why did he have to mention the Ottoman Empire. I...wanted to leave that sick past of mine behind.  _

Truth was, he had done things that he wasn’t proud of. Massacres, slavery, kidnapping, genocide. He knew wasn’t a saintly empire, or one that pretended to be one.

But…

Well, the one thing he did miss was finally forming a [platonic] relationship with Greece.

_ “What are we eating today old man?” Greece asked, emerald eyes glowing at the smell of food in the air.  _

_ “Prizola, brat,” Sadiq replied, rubbing the top of Greece’s head. _

_ “Hey! Stop that!” Greece yelped. “Stop treating me like a child!” _

_ “I’ll stop treating you like a child when you become independent,” Sadiq grunted, adding the ingredients into the cooking pot. He had cooks, but he knew he could cook better than those people; heck, he knew every Ottoman food recipe out there. He was the nation, after all.  _

_ “I swear I will,” Greece said, eyes burning with a hungry fire.  _

_ Sadiq had looked at those burning eyes for a second, before thinking, I have no doubt he will try.  _

_ No matter how good the relationship of any two nations are, war was inevitable, especially if one was a conquered country and the other, the conqueror.  _

_ “We’ll see,” Sadiq chortled. “But for now, you’re still just a part of the Ottoman Empire.” _

_ “You know what, just hurry up with the cooking old man!” Greece retorted. “You’re getting too old, so you’re slowing down! I can hear the creaking from here.”  _

_ “Ya little-”  _

Turkey couldn’t--wouldn’t--forget about the day Greece disappeared one day, only to appear--bloodied, dusty, battered--again at the city of Smyrna. 

Turkey gasped for air, clawing on his chest. It felt like a pound of bricks was squeezing down on his heart, crushing it and forcing it down until it couldn’t work anymore. 

He let out short exhales and inhales as his breathing rate picked up. A lightheaded feeling washed over him as he tried to think about anything but the memories of his past self. 

_ This is so fucking ridiculous. _

Why the hell was he acting so weak? Everything he was thinking about right now had happened in the past; it was already over, and done with.

Yet, the past influences the future. There was no way he could ever forget his history. 

He looked up at the ceiling of the bathroom, and began to trace the lines on it with his eyes. Soon enough, he began to calm down once more.

_ It’s fine. I’m fucking fine. There’s nothing to worry about. _

He took off his mask, revealing golden-amber eyes, a sharp nose and jaw, and long eyelashes. 

_ Damn I look good,  _ Turkey thought, glancing at himself in the mirror. 

He washed his face and then placed his mask back on. 

_ I don’t feel good enough to show off my face though. _

He wanted to talk to Greece again, not as Turkey, but as the  _ oldcollapseddissolved  _ Ottoman Empire. As Sadiq. 

But he’s too stubborn to to break this charade he’s built up for himself, and he’s too afraid of the Greece with cold eyes and bloody hands. 

The one that screamed for independence, and 

_ “I will never forgive you!” _

Turkey grimaced. 

He’s too tired of this shit to keep thinking about it.

Turkey checked his watch to make sure he was arriving on time, before reentering the meeting room.

“Hey Japan,” Turkey said as he passed the black-haired nation. He and Japan had been on good terms, and Greece and Turkey had often fought over Japan as well.

“Hello Turkey,” Japan replied back politely. Then, he turned to Turkey, and inquired, “Did something happen between you and Greece again?”

“Wha-why?” Turkey asked, grimacing. He had walked out on Greece earlier, after all.

“He just looked a bit distraught, that’s all,” Japan said, looking at him knowingly. “You should talk to him.”

“Ah..” Turkey muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

_ Which obviously means I’m not going to do that. _


End file.
